


Right Now Our Future's Certain (I won't let it slip away)

by CantSpeakFae



Series: The Wretched: One Shots [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Boys Kissing, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pre-Canon, Ripper era, btvs, stand alone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: Five places on Randall that Ripper likes to kiss.





	Right Now Our Future's Certain (I won't let it slip away)

  **One: Neck**

There’s no warning. Ripper’s crossed the distance between them in a second, backing Randall up against his own bed and pushing him down against the mattress. He pins Randall’s hands above his head with one hand and pulls down the collar of his shirt with the other, lowering his head so he can press his lips to Randall’s neck. His breath is hot against Randall’s skin and he squirms when Ripper’s tongue peeks out to trace a fading teeth-shaped bruise from an earlier romp between the sheets.

“Say it.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Ripper nips at him, nails pressing into Randall’s wrists. Not hard enough to really hurt. Never enough to really hurt.

“Say it.”

“...Alright. The Who is the best band of all time.”

Ripper presses one last, sloppy kiss to Randall’s neck and stands up straight with a grin.

“Was that so hard?”

 

_(They never have real arguments. Just laughter.)_

 

* * *

 

  **Two: Cheek**

Ripper’s left eye is bruised and that’s a cut under his eye. Another pub brawl started because someone was heckling the band and escalated because Ripper dive-bombed off of the stage and kicked the heckler in the mouth with both feet for calling after the “twink” on the drums. Ripper had come out the other side on top and victorious as always, but that didn’t stop Randall from scowling at him as he inspected the cut on his cheek and called him a fucking idiot for taking on someone with a knife.

“Couldn’t let him talk to you like that, could I?” Ripper asked, throwing his arm around his boy who’s still clucking over him like a mother hen.

He turns his head, then, and kisses Randall on the cheek. It’s wet and sloppy, meant to make Randall blush and befuddle him.

It works. Randall’s goes red and stammers.

 

_(He plays him like his guitar and the sound is just as sweet.)_

 

* * *

 

 **Three:** **Hand**

They’re sitting on the couch, side by side, fingers laced together as they hold onto each other. Randall’s talking about something, babbling really, going on and on about something he learned in class today. Ripper can’t decipher any of the medical jargon and he doesn’t have the same interest in human anatomy that Randall does, but he loves to listen to him anyway. Loves the way that his eyes brighten and the gestures he makes with his free hand to emphasize the point.

He’s lifted Randall’s hand to his mouth before he’s even realized what he’s done, pressing his mouth to the back of it. It’s a quick gesture of affection, but it stops Randall mid-sentence. He looks dazed… and Ripper nudges him with amusement.

“‘M listening. Keep talking.”

 

_(They don’t always need words, but Ripper wants them anyway.)_

 

* * *

 

**Four: Shoulder**

They’ve had sex a thousand times, but this is the first night that they’ve ever made love.

Ripper feels the difference, even if he doesn’t know exactly what that difference is. He’s had Randall like this before; the two of them lying on their sides, Randall’s back pressed against Ripper’s chest and Ripper’s hand on Randall’s hip, holding him tight… but tonight is something special.

He’s overcome with emotions that he doesn’t want to sort through; feelings that he’s too afraid to put voice to. So he ducks his head down and presses his lips to Randall’s sweat-slick shoulder, tasting the salt of his skin and closing his eyes.

 

_(Ripper loves him. And one day he might even tell him so.)_

 

* * *

 

**Five: Forehead**

Randall’s body hit the floor like the last note of a song; ringing with finality and lingering in the air with only an echo of the feelings it had once inspired. Ripper’s hands shake when he pulls his boy into his arms, holding him in his lap. Randall’s skin is so cold. His cheeks are pale; he’ll never blush again. His eyes are blank. They reflect the dim lights of the flickering candles around them, but they’ll never be bright with life again.

And Ripper? Ripper has screamed himself hoarse. His cheeks are wet with tears and every muscle in his body aches.

How could he have let his happen?

The others are gone. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting with the body of his boy in his lap. Time no longer has any meaning.

Ripper’s hands are still shaking when he brushes Randall’s curly hair back from his face, just enough for Ripper to bow his head and kiss Randall’s forehead for the last time.

 

_(He always knew it would end, but never imagined a world where Randall wasn’t there with him.)_


End file.
